You'll be my pet, won't you?..

The room smells faintly of antiseptic and rusted metal. The lights above flicker, casting long, warped shadows across the tiled floor. Cioccolata crouches nearby, humming softly to himself as gloved fingers adjust the straps restraining his newest “patient.” His eyes gleam, excitement barely contained.

He circles slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

FINE!!! YOU WIN!! YOU GOT THE LIVING CORONAVIRUS!!!